A Collection of Thoughts
by TheSpiritOfSnow
Summary: -"Illusion: She only begins coming back to the real world when she realizes that something strange is going on." -A series of drabbles. Attempting 100 Themes.-
1. Introduction

**Hello. This all began with the next drabble you will see on this collection of drabbles, which you will see soon. I realized it fit a theme, and well... I've always wanted to try the 100 theme challenge anyways. However, these won't be in order.**

**You will see more than one thing here, from random to poetic to shipping to anything else. I welcome suggestions, comments and advice (or any feedback in general). Enjoy.**

* * *

There was a sort of hushed quiet over Republic City the night she was introduced to it.

Step one, step two. She walked smoothly like a waterbender, steadily like an earthbender, and strongly like a firebender. The only thing she lacked was the skimming of her feet over the cement; her footsteps were loud and heavy and lacked the grace of an airbender.

But that was why she was here, after all. To learn airbending. To complete her training and begin her life as a true Avatar.

But she didn't want to think about that. Now, she was simply walking along, watching the lights dancing off the buildings around her. Her blinks and breaths were slow with a patience she didn't realize she possessed.

There was a lot of things she didn't know about herself.

With every step, she knew she was losing herself, something she had never done before. She had always been so strong in every aspect. She had never known true fear. She wondered, for a moment, if she would experience it here.

But there wasn't just fear to think about. There were so many new things here! Such a different place, so depressing and vivacious and lonely and content, all in one. So many places to explore. And yet, it was only her first night here. She wasn't even supposed to be out.

With every step, she knew her heart was just _dripping_ out of her chest, losing itself to Republic City.

And yet, Korra smiled.


	2. Drowning

She can see the light at the surface, but she's sinking too quickly to savor it.

The bubbles dance at the frayed edges of her vision. They tease and taunt her as they float towards the air she so desperately needs. There's a myriad of them now, her life escaping her lungs until there is simply no more.

She watches them float up and catch at the sleeves of her two best friends, and _(oh, spirits, why? Why, spirits?)_ they're going to die with her.

The world's going dark now. She's trying not to breathe in the water, because she's afraid of how it will feel. For a strangely hopeful moment, she wonders if this is what drowning is like: quiet, hearing the blood slow in your ears, like a lagging lullaby that causes your heavy eyes to finally drift closed.

No. It's a lot more painful.

When she heaves in the first breath of water, it feels like she's gulping in tar. Her lungs scream in agony as the liquid swirls inside her, and she wants to move and get away and _live_ but her limbs just can't move and _she's going to die she can't breathe no please—_

If the first breath of water is like tar, then the second breath is like fire. Water pours like liquid flames into her body and runs through her blood. There is simply no escape from the pain, and she's sure that it's already been hours, days, weeks, _months_ since the last time she tasted pure, wonderful air. She never thought that water could betray her like this, could burn and kill her like this. Once upon a time, she knew water. She was invincible and she had_ air please no where is air I need to breathe—_

The third breath is not tar or fire, but lava. It rears and roils and sinks deep into her soul, ripping and tearing at her mind, eating its way straight to her core. It's like someone has torn her inside-out and cut into her lungs, slowly running a blade deeper into her body, carving out her spirit and _SHE CAN'T BREATHE SHE CAN'T BREATHE SHE CAN'T—SHE CAN'T BREATHE_—

The fourth breath is nothing, for there was never a fourth breath.


	3. Puzzle

**Thanks so much for the reviews, **_**paper walls**_** and **_**the ticking clock**_**. I appreciate them more than you know. ^^**

**Anyways, enjoy this. Perhaps it's not as good as **_**Drowning**_**, maybe I have some OOCness problems, but… well, it's longer, I guess. Also, I have a tumblr; **_**spirit-of-snow**_**. Don't have much, but feel free to check it out~**

* * *

"What's that?"

She looks up, up, up at him (because she's sitting down on the floor and he's so _tall_ already) and blinks once, twice at the quiet curiosity on his face.

"You're supposed to line the colors up," she says off-handedly before staring back down at the multicolored box in her hands.

"Well, you're not doing that well, are you?" he says, reaching down to grab it. "Here, let me try."

"No!" she says a bit too loudly, and it's evident that she's been at this for a bit too long. She twists and turns the red—blue—orange—green—yellow—white but she can only get most of the blues to match up on one side.

"I don't think you're supposed to do that," he remarks, reaching down for it once more. "Here—"

"Never!" she growls childishly before diving under the table.

He sighs at her antics and her legs, which are sticking out from under the table. For a moment, he considers just dragging her out, but that was kind of immature, wasn't it? And he didn't do immature.

"Come on," he sighs. "Just let me try."

"Shut up! I swear to all my past lives that I've got the second side!" she growls, and the next moment he's clutching his shin because she somehow managed to kick him without looking.

He mutters profanities under his breath and half-limps to the other side of the table.

She peers up at his legs and frowns before looking back at her cube. Yeah, she was lying to him. She even managed to mess up the first side. _Again._

Before she can realize it, he's bent down just long enough to snatch the cube out of her hands. She fumes and grabs his ankle in response, making him collapse onto the floor.

Surprisingly enough, he just grins a little, not even bothering to pry his eyes from the cube as he leans against the foot of the couch. She glares at him, wriggling from underneath the table so that she's sitting at eye-level with him.

She just stares at his face for a while, but when he pays her no notice, her eyes trail down to the cube.

She snorts in frustration when she sees that he's already got most of the reds, oranges and yellows matched up. He just smiles slightly, taking _way_ too much time (in her opinion) to sort and sift the pieces in place.

"It's like one big puzzle, isn't it?" she suddenly asks, slowly letting her head tilt to the side.

"What?" he asks, looking up at her with a slight scowl at her interrupting him. "Of course. You're supposed to line the pieces up, right? That's a puzzle."

"I mean, _life_," she says, leaning back a little and looking at the ceiling, as if too embarrassed to meet his eyes. "It's just one huge weight on your shoulders. An unsolvable puzzle."

He glances up at her, and his fingers absentmindedly tap against the sides of the cube like they're impatient to finish what they started

"All puzzles can be solved," he says.

"But sometimes you can't solve them alone," she says, and he's getting just a little bit scared because it's starting to look like she's in a whole other world. "You need… someone else… to help you take that weight. To figure it all out."

He just raises an eyebrow. "What?"

She just shakes her head and puts a small smile on her face, looking not at him but at the cube-shaped puzzle.

"...hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah." She points at the cube; the blue and white sides are unsolved. "Gimme that."

He only complies because she seems to be in such a strange mood.

She takes the cube in her hands and he watches her mess up all of the patterns he had managed to figure out. For a moment, he compares it to how she just busted her way in and messed up all the patterns of his life.

Then he watches her twist and turn the blues and whites until they're solid colors with two of the sides. Then she drops the cube in her lap, grabs his hands, and splays them out evenly. The next thing he knows, she's placed it in his hands and curled his fingers around it.

"You can help me figure it out," Korra offers, strangely hesitant, strangely something he always thought was _not _Korra, but apparently he's wrong. Did he do something? He knows by her uncharacteristic seriousness that there's some sort of hidden message in her words.

But instead of dwelling on it any more, Mako nods and begins to help finish her puzzle.


	4. Can You Hear Me?

_tip_

Korra frowned in her sleep.

_tip tap_

Her lips twitched in her irritation, and her head lolled to the side.

_tap tip tap_

But that meant that one side of her slumbering mind was suspected to the infuriating noise of the rain.

_tip tap tip tip_

The sound was just too much. Korra's brain murmured for her to wake up, so she did, but she wasn't very happy about it.

_tip tip tip tip tip_

_Damn rain._ The young Avatar shifted her weight and rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head, hoping that the noise would go away.

_tap tip tap-tap-tap tip_

Korra raised her eyebrows but didn't move. Was that a rhythm? The rain seemed a little... _irregular_ that time.

_tip-tip tip... tap tip tap-tap_

It was a rhythm! That was weird, but not weird enough to make Korra get up. Besides, she didn't really know about rain; it always just snow or hail in the South Pole...

_tip-tap-tap... tip tip tap-tip-tap_

Okay, that was it. Korra groaned as she made herself fall over the side of the bed. Her body hit the wood-paved floor with a hard thud, and the blankets came tumbling down with her.

_tip... tap tip tip... tap-tip-tip_

The tapping was getting slower, more heavy, like the rain was getting tired. Korra willed herself to get up and move and investigate, but her limbs seemed locked in place with pent-up fatigue and stress.

_tap-tip... tap... tip tap..._

_Spirits, what time is it?_ Korra thought as she moaned angrily, using her arms to clutch at the windowsill. She could just picture herself now: one lazy lump of an Avatar too sleepy to stand.

_tip... tap-tap... tip..._

It was enough of a self-insult to motivate her into action. Korra dragged herself to her feet, listening closely to the rain as she rose.

_tip... tap... tip..._

She growled in satisfaction as her aching feet balanced her upright on the ground, and she reached for the curtains of the window.

_tip... tap..._

Korra shoved the blinds apart.

_tip_

It wasn't raining.

* * *

A young, brown-haired woman smiled wearily as she stared back at the bewildered face of Korra.

The young Avatar was shaking her head, eyes flicking in all directions past the woman. It was evident that she couldn't see anything. The woman sighed, pressing her blue fingers against the glass.

"It's time for me to go, Korra," the woman said. "You'll get the letter tomorrow. Korra..."

Because she couldn't see the source of the tapping, Korra just frowned and closed the curtains, shielding the room inside from view.

But the woman still smiled. Korra wasn't spiritually talented enough to see the woman, even on a solstice, but the girl would figure it all out later. Korra would grieve, but she would go on to be a great Avatar. And besides...

"Katara?"

The woman turned, a laugh on her lips as she looked at the surprised but sparkling eyes of her late husband.

"Aang," she said, simply slipping her hand into his.

...Katara had her own Avatar to return to.


	5. Keeping A Secret

**Couldn't figure out how to end this. :/ So yes, this is one of those plot bunny drabbles where you feel like you could make an awesome story with it but don't know how you want to work with it. If that even makes a gluon of sense.  
**

**Oh, and thanks for the review ksalxo! I'm trying not to clog things up with author's notes and I can't PM you, so sorry about that. ^^**

* * *

Korra tilted her head slightly against the dirt wall, curious like the young child she was, as she passed the water in between her fingers. It looped around her fingertips like an endless circle, defying gravity, defying nature itself.

Or at least, that's what their dictator Amon said. He had been in control since Korra was born.

The girl sighed and leaned back on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, but she didn't let the water go. Water was so pretty. It glowed sometimes, when she wanted it to, like right now. So pretty…

Why did Amon say it was bad, then? Bending made Korra feel good. It helped her and Mako and Bolin survive all the time, especially in the dark alleyways of Republic City, where benders were persecuted and punished for practicing their element.

But eight-year-old Korra didn't truly realize the severity of this. She just knew that it was her, Mako, and Bolin, and they all used their bending behind the Equalist Police's back in order to get food and water and shelter, even though they weren't supposed to.

They were breaking the rules just by bending. But Korra didn't mind breaking the rules. She didn't really like the Equalists or Amon, if only because they didn't think bending was pretty, but dangerous.

"Korra?"

She lifted her head at the voice and smiled widely when nine-year-old Mako walked in, scarf and all.

"Is Bolin doing any better?" he asked, looking at the seven-year-old earthbender.

Korra deflated a little, sending her circlet of water into their large supply jar with a flick of her wrist.

"He still won't wake up," she told the firebender, bending over the lumpy mattress to look at Bolin, who was sleeping on the other, slightly more comfortable mattress. The younger brother coughed lightly in his sleep.

Mako just stared at his brother for a few moments before sighing and shaking his head. The firebender boy turned around and fixed the tattered white sheets that hid their small home. Mako pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto their tiny, three-legged table, shoved his oversized boots under, and promptly collapsed on the space next to Korra.

She looked at him, surprised. Usually the trio slept on either side of Bolin.

"His sickness—it's contagious," Mako said, not bothering to water it down for Korra; he knew enough to know that he would have to tell her the blunt truth, or else she would go ahead and ignore him anyways.

"It means if we stay near him too much, we'll catch it too, and then none of us can get food and water, and it'll make us vulnerable, so the Equalists can find us and take away our bending," he added in at Korra's look of confusion.

Korra scooted a little farther away from Bolin at this, looking wary.

Mako just sighed again, tucking his face into a half ripped-open pillow and curling up on the mattress they had stolen the month before.

The girl of the trio looked between the two brothers thoughtfully. A question popped up into her mind, and she blinked once, twice before turning to Mako and spontaneously voicing it.

"Mako, why do the Equalists want to take away our bending?"

The firebender boy looked up, surprised.

"I dunno," he said truthfully, sitting up again despite his aching bones. "Maybe they just don't like benders."

"Are they jealous because we can bend?" Korra asked with wide, innocent eyes. "Is that why they took away our mommies and daddies, too? Because they don't like that?"

Mako slowly cocked his head at Korra, blinking once, twice before looking down at his lap.

"Do you think that if we went to the Equalists, they would take care of us?" Mako suddenly asked, foreign doubt and uncertainty seeping into his voice. "They could heal Bolin and maybe we could all be a family, but happier and safer, and you guys won't have to hurt anymore."

"No!" Korra nearly shouted, making Mako and Bolin jump, even though the latter was still asleep.

"No, 'cause then they'd take away our bending and—"

She grabbed Mako's wrist, startling him into making a small ball of fire.

"—how would you feel if you couldn't do this anymore?"

The fire flickered, and Mako stared at it. How _would_ he feel?

Like… a part of him was gone?

That's what the un-benders told him when he asked. They felt empty. Like life had lost its meaning. To Mako, that would be like losing Korra or Bolin. He wouldn't be able to bear it.

"Okay." Mako looked up at Korra with a slight, but rare smile. "I know now."

"Well good!" she said defiantly, and the firebender boy had to suppress a laugh at her expression. "You remember that all the time, 'kay!"

"Yeah."

And Mako would remember that night, that reason for keeping such a secret, until the day benders could roam free once more.


	6. Illusion

She only begins coming back to the real world when she realizes that something strange is going on.

It's not a trick of the weather when she randomly feels warmth; rather, it's nearing winter again, even if the snow isn't falling quite yet. She's pretty sure it's not herself when she hears a laugh or a cheer. It's something else, but she can't explain it.

It happens randomly.

Sometimes she's around the airbending children on one of those colder nights and they snuggle up to her for warmth. Their noses and toes are cold when they press into her sides. Then she hears a chuckle, but she's not sure if it's her own.

Sometimes she's around Tenzin. She's meditating with him in the pavilion, and the wind is cold and relentless _(like it has been since that day)_, and yet the brunt of the breeze doesn't hit her. It's like there's something blocking it, and occasionally she feels a slight shiver, but she's not sure if it's her own.

Sometimes she's probending. She's the new firebender and captain, and she's starting to understand all of the old captain's frustrations. The Fire Ferrets were cycling through waterbenders like rotten cabbages. None of them ever clicked. But when she fired that last blast in the arena, when she feels that moment of triumph, she can hear a loud cheer, but she's not sure if it's her own.

Sometimes she's with Bolin, who still is morose and droopy, but she pretends not to realize it. Instead they idly chat and joke and laugh, even though it's not even twenty percent of what it used to be. But at those times, sometimes either one of them said something _really_ funny and they could truly laugh, like old times. But one of the laughs—she's not sure if it's Bolin's, or her own, or… someone else's.

Sometimes she's sleeping at night. The windows are all open and the blankets are tossed off and her sleeping clothes are suited for summer, and she's _trying_ to freeze, _trying_ so hard to feel _numb_, and yet all she can feel is terrible, wonderful warmth.

Sometimes she sees fire sparking out of the corner of her eye, but she knows it can't be true, because he died six months ago.

* * *

**You can probably tell what I ship by now, but I'm not a crazed fangirl that tries to slaughter all the others with my armada. :C I don't know why, but it's fun writing these two. It doesn't even have to be romantic.**

**I'll try exploring other things, but my hands write what my subconscious brain tells them to. I actually had an idea for a more general piece… we'll see.**

**PS. I wouldn't mind prompt suggestions right about now. Maybe it'll heighten my productivity rate. xD Reviews do that, too…**


End file.
